


Softer and more beautiful

by azul_ora



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Christmas, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 20:12:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7947457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azul_ora/pseuds/azul_ora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas (krĭsˈməs):<br/>n. A Human celebration that takes place on the 25th of December (see: <i>Terran calendar</i>) which originally came from the Human religion Christianity but has been adopted by many Human cultures and involves gift-giving, the eating of a communal meal and festivities<br/>n. An excuse for most of the Enterprise to get wasted<br/>n. Something that a Jewish-raised Vulcan working on a predominantly Human ship really should have been better prepared for</p>
            </blockquote>





	Softer and more beautiful

Spock does not understand the Human tendency to attach special significance to certain dates on the calendar, especially given that these dates were defined by the old Terran calendar - now obsolete in favour of the Stardate calendar. As such, celebrating Christmas makes no sense to him at all. Why is the fake birth date of the supposed son of God who had died over 2,300 Terran calendar years ago worth celebrating?

(Despite various Human’s arguments to the contrary, the chances of the man known as Jesus Christ actually having been born on the 25th of December are exponentially low. Various historical sources place his birth date in late June or early July, and have speculated that his official birth date was moved to the 25th of December to mirror the Pagan Winter Solstice Festival that took place on the 21st, the day of the year with the least sunlight in the Northern Hemisphere.)

And yet, festivities increase crew morale, and leading up to Christmas the average member of the crew works 12.3% harder, so he’s willing to suspend his judgement of the situation.

* * *

 

“Lt. Sulu, what plant is this?”

Sulu glances over. “Oh, that’s _viscum album_ , Commander. More commonly known as mistletoe.”

Spock surveys the plant: small green leaves and white berries. Its scent is not dissimilar to that of his meditation incense, of which he is running out. He glances around, and judges that the amount of ‘mistletoe’ currently growing in this botany lab is sufficient that he can most likely take some. However, it is always better to request permission.

“Lt. Sulu, may I enquire as to why such an excessive amount of _viscum album_ is currently being grown?”

“It’s for the Christmas party, Commander, only Ensign Baker accidentally started growing twenty samples instead of twelve, so we’ve got a bit more than we need.”

“In that case, would you be amenable for me to take some of the plant out of the botany labs for my own use in meditation?”

“Sure!”

* * *

Spock returns to his quarters with one growth sample of mistletoe in his hands. He enters, and finds a way to string it up from the ceiling above the place where he usually sits to meditate. This way, he will be able to continue meditation as usual for sufficient time for him to purchase more incense.

* * *

During Alpha shift, the day before Christmas, Lt. Uhura sings ‘Christmas carols’ throughout the entire shift. Jim tries to convince Spock to play his lyre.

Spock refuses (though he does enjoy _Silent Night_ ).

When he returns to his quarters that evening, he sits for a while, before picking up his lyre and tuning it slowly. Once he's satisfied, he slowly begins to play the Dreidel Song. It's been a long time since he celebrated Hannukah, but every time it came around, his mother would purchase a menorah from Terra and spend eight days giving Spock and Sarek small, logical gifts.

* * *

It is the night of the party, and Spock has politely declined all seven requests made by various crewmembers for him to join the party. Instead, he sits in the lotus on the floor of his quarters: with alcohol inebriating their minds, Humans project their emotions even more loudly than usual, and he attempts to meditate in order to compensate. The mistletoe he’d taken from botany hangs above him and he breathes in its scent, centring himself as he sinks into a light trance.

He is drawn out of the trance precisely three hours, twenty-seven minutes and thirty-four seconds later as the door to his quarters swooshes open.

He opens his eyes to see the Captain, slightly red-faced but seemingly sober: Spock can detect no scent of alcohol. He's grinning widely, hair mussed and a twinkle in his eye. Spock does not move from where he's sitting: it's perfectly comfortable whether he's meditating or not. Jim sits at Spock's desk.

“Hey, Spock.”

“Hello, Captain.”

“You skip the party?”

“Affirmative.”

“Too many illogical humans for you?”

“Affirmative. And my mother was Jewish, so I feel it would be inappropriate for me to celebrate Christmas, Captain.”

Jim sighs. “It’s _Jim_ , Spock, we’re off duty. How many times do I have to tell you?”

“My apologies… Jim.”

"No problem. To be honest, if I were stuck with a shipful of Totally Logical™ Vulcans all the time, I'd probably go batshit crazy as well."

"Curious. Is the excrement of small flighted mammals a standard measurement of mental stability among Humans?"

Jim lets out a high, surprised laugh. "Y'know, I was saying to Chekov the other day how unfair it is that you tell the best jokes without even trying."

Spock cocks his head. "Jokes, Captain?"

"Forget it. And it's  _Jim_."

"I must confess that I do not understand the Human tradition of nicknames. Why would I not simply call you James, as is your given name?"

"Well..." Jim pauses, and then says, "nicknames are a sign of affection, I suppose. It's a way to show you care enough about someone to think of something to call them yourself, rather than just the name you give everyone."

Spock tilts his head, considering. "But you introduce yourself as Jim. Although any sentient being with a rudimentary knowledge of Human culture would be aware that this is a nickname, there is no effort involved in called you such."

Jim groans. "It's  _tradition_ , Spock, just leave it at that. Although, tradition is probably all illogical and shit, right?"

"Negative."

"Huh?"

"Any practice that has survived over hundreds or even thousands of years must have sufficient merit behind it to be practised, unless there are new conditions which seriously disprove its practising. Therefore, practising traditions - as long as they are not totally redundant in modern times - is only logical."

"Huh." Jim considers, a soft smile on his face. "I never thought about it like that before."

"Vulcan logic is far more flexible than most Humans believe it to be," Spock continues. "It is not a case of right and wrong, logical and illogical, but of justification of actions or ideas."

Jim grins. "Y'know, that's pretty smart."

"Negative, Captain. Merely one conception of Surak. The majority of Vulcans choose a less..." Spock considers his words. "... _interpretive_  route of logic."

"Okay, then, Spock. If practising traditions, so long as they're not obsolete, is only logical, then it's only logical that I do this, right?" And Jim crosses the room and plants a light kiss on Spock's lips, soft and chaste, before pulling away. He looks slightly stunned and mostly confused, so Jim reaches up and plucks a berry from the branch above them. "Mistletoe, Spock. It's Human tradition that anyone standing under mistletoe must be kissed, and if they don't, it's bad luck."

"Luck is- mphh!"

Once Jim pulls away, he adds, "Also, each kiss is a single berry off the branch." He drops the first berry and plucks away another, then glances up. "Pity. You didn't pick a very big branch."

Spock gathers himself and presses his fingers to Jim's in a Vulcan kiss, plucking away another berry. "I am sure that the wreath in my sleeping quarters would be more than sufficient,  _ashayam_."

Jim pauses for a second. "I have to ask though: are you just humouring the crazy Human here?"

Spock tugs the branch down from the ceiling, throws it across the room, and then swoops him into another kiss, pressing lips and tongue against teeth sweeping his mouth that leaves him breathless and gasping when they come up for air.

"Does that answer your question?"

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own 'em - if I did, it would be a lot more diverse.  
> Title is from the quote: 'Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.' by Norman Vincent Peale.


End file.
